


i'd run away and hide with you

by Mrs_Moony



Series: daddy issues [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Child Abuse, not I/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:11:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10387389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Moony/pseuds/Mrs_Moony
Summary: because he's not alone, not anymore.





	

**part II.**

_“What about your mom? You never mention her.”_

 

It's way too hot for June, Mickey thinks. His clothes are already sticking to his skin, there's a layer of sweat on the back of his neck and he finds it harder and harder to breathe.

He hates it. Yet he doesn't move an inch away from the boy lying half on top of him.

Mickey lifts the joint up to his lips and takes a deep drag, only to have it taken away seconds later.

“My turn,” Ian mumbles, rolling off his chest and inhaling the smoke.

Even though the wave of fresh air on his skin feels nice, Mickey has to force himself not to drag Ian back on top of him.

“Come on, I need it more than you do if you want me to tell you,” Mickey says, reaching out for it again. Ian doesn't hesitate and passes it along, but when he sits up next to Mickey, he's frowning.

“I thought… You were quiet. I mean, I figured you didn't wanna talk about it. It's okay, Mick, you don't have to.”

Ian looks away, which he doesn't do very often. He likes to keep eye contact. His stares are sometimes so intense that Mickey doesn't know how to handle them. Not this time, though.

_He's giving me space_.

“Nah, it's fine. You asked, it's only fair. You tell me your shit, I tell you mine.”

The truth is, it was easier said than done.

But Ian doesn't push him. He waits patiently, looking at him with a soft expression. It's soothing, the way he lets Mickey relax around him -- it's almost as if he could connect himself to Ian's heartbeat and breathing and follow them, synching his own with their rhythm.

Mickey sits up, too, and subconsciously takes Ian's hand. He just holds onto it, enjoying the warmth of the touch despite the too hot air.

“She's dead. It happened when I was five… Almost six, I think. Iggy would know better, I don't really remember much.”

He doesn't look at Ian. Sure, he probably guessed that she's dead. Why else wouldn't he talk about her? But he doesn't want to see the pity on Ian's face.

“What happened?” Ian asks.

“I…” Maybe he squeezes Ian's hand a little tighter. “I saw it. Iggy and I both. We came home and Terry was… Fuck,” he mutters, hating that even after all those years, it still hurts so fucking much.

Ian isn't moving next to him, and Mickey doesn't trust himself not to do cry if he looks at him. So he doesn't.

“He killed her. Right in front of us. Beat her to death with his bare hands, not stopping even when Iggy threw himself at him. He just… smashed him across the room. And I couldn't even fucking move. I didn't know what was happening, it wasn't like he never beat her, but this… she wasn't crying, wasn't moving either. I guess that's when I realized.”

Mickey closes his eyes and tries to focus on Ian's breathing, but he realizes that Ian went completely stiff. He looks up and for a split second, he sees the pain on Ian's face, before he notices that Mickey is looking.

“I don't… I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry, Mickey. Fuck.”

“Yeah. It was a long time ago, don't worry about me. I'm… okay. She was… she wasn't around much, it's not like I remember her much. I know she took drugs, even overdosed a few times. I guess it's just that, no matter how fucked up your parents are, you still love them.”

Mickey has never said it aloud before, not to either of his parents. But it's true. He did love them both, once. When he didn't know better. And he still loves his mother, no matter how much he tries to forget it.

“Yeah. That's pretty accurate,” Ian says. And Mickey knows that he understands, in a way. It's more than he ever thought he could get.

“Well, how 'bout we get out of here for a while? It's too fucking hot in this room.” He stands up and snorts when Ian whines, not moving.

“Exactly,” he mumbles, pouting. “It's too hot to _move_ , Mick.”

Fuck, he really loves this idiot.

“Ah, fuck it,” he says and lands back on the bed-

- _and lets Ian wrap his arms around him, and lets his lips form into a smile, and lets himself be happy even though he's in pain, because he's not alone, not anymore._

 


End file.
